You Never Said Goodbye
by Kenjiro Minami
Summary: Remember those days that you had someone to love, those days when that same someone was still there to love you back? Remember how they would hold you, and kiss you, and tell you how much they loved you everyday? Remember those days while you read this, because my special someone is gone. Forever. He's never coming back to me. And he never even said goodbye before he left. ..
1. You Never Said Goodbye

A fair skinned woman with tight, curly black hair stared dully at a wall, unable to really process anything. She stared at the white, empty wall, the spot on her bed next to her just as void as the wall in front of her. She remembered when it had been filled, just a week ago, by her husband, a sweet man who was just as much human as she was. A half monster, son of a hippocampus. A half monster who, for years, had loved the woman upon the bed, a half god, otherwise known as a demigod. She was the offspring of the god Hypnos, the Greek manifestation of sleep. Though they were different, though they came from two groups that usually fought, they had still fallen deeply in love. It had been like it was fated, their love meant to be. Ever since they were eighteen, they had still loved each other till this very day.

They had kids, too. Two of them. Twins. One a boy, named Jacky, the other, a girl, whom they had named Ginny. They were eleven now, the sweetest things the two parents could ever ask for. Ginny was developing a bit of an attitude, but her brother Jacky kept her in check, remaining just as sweet, caring, and honorable as his father, Daniel Rivera.

Or... at least like his father _was_.

The woman continued sitting on her bed, thinking about the day she had lost him, tears in her multi colored eyes. It had started with an argument, a pettish one about how they had to be careful about how much they spent, since they were having a bit of a financial issue at the time because Daniel had been sick, and had missed a few days of work because of it. His wife had to stay home from her job and take care of him, since the kids couldn't because they had school, and neither parent wanted to put the pressure of taking care of their father on them. Both the woman and her husband had lost many hours on their paychecks, and they had to put all of it towards bills and their kids college funds.

The woman had been planning a trip to an amusement park in her birth state Washington for months before that, and that was what had brought upon the argument.

 _"We don't have enough money for that, now, Ty!"_ He had exclaimed after she had been pleading for a couple of hours.

At that point the woman, Ty, had begun to cry in frustration and desperation. _"Danny, please. I've been planning this for months! The kids know about it. We have to go, please. We haven't done anything as a family all year. Please!"_

 _"Ty, would you just stop it already?! We don't. Have. Enough. Money. End of story."_

 _"We can use some of their college funds. They don't need all that money right now! We still have seven years till they do."_

Ty remembered painfully the anger in her husband's deep blue eyes. The deep blue eyes that she had fallen in love with fifteen years ago. The same deep blue eyes that she woke up to every morning up to the day of that stupid argument. The same deep blue eyes that held a deep love for the demigod and mother of two. She missed those deep blue orbs, and she wanted them now, so desperately.

But they had left. Right after Ty had said that, about the college funds. He had left her with the car keys, storming out of the house. A couple moments later Ty had heard the car engine start and the sound of wheels rolling out of their driveway. The demigod didn't bother going after her husband. She knew he just needed time to think. That's what he always did when he left her. And she knew where he was going, too. He was driving to the beach, just a thirty minute drive from where they lived. She remembered he Danny had once told her that was where he went when he thought, because they reminded him of his dad, who was his monster parent, the hippocampus, one named Adam who could shift between human and the horse of the sea. He said the beach also reminded him of her, of Ty, because it was the first thing that she had been excited about doing with him, swimming at the beach, when the two had first met, before they had fallen in love with each other.

But he never came back. He never came back home. The car never showed back up in the driveway. Ty never woke up to have his arms around her, lips gently placed to the demigods shoulder as he woke her up with little, tiny kisses, light and careful, loving and sweet. She never woke up to see his deep blue eyes again.

After waking, she had fretfully paced the kitchen, her two kids looking upon their mother with deep concern, not a clue as to what was going on in her mind. She had waited hours for him to return, for him to hold her and comfort her like he had all those times before. She twisted her rings, all three of them. The promise ring Danny had given her a month after they got together, the engagement ring he had given her two years later after they had been living in Boston, near his dad, for a year, and the marriage band he had given her two months after they were engaged. She always wore all three, because Danny had given them to her, never taking them off after he had given her each one.

Around two pm she had gotten the call. Ty hadn't even bothered checking the id, answering it immediately. "Danny?" She had asked hopefully, pleading desperately with the gods that the car had just broken down on him, or that it had been stolen, and he was calling her to go and pick him up or send a cab in his direction.

The voice on the other end of the line wasn't his, though. It sounded official, firm. Not like the soft, smooth voice her husband spoke with. As the voice spoke, tears surged to Tys eyes with each word it said, until, finally, her cellphone dropped from her hand. It clattered on the ground, a spider web arching across its black, smooth screen, a few pieces flaking off and onto the tile floor of kitchen. The woman, now sobbing, pressed her back to the fridge door and slid down it till she was sitting, crying, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them there as she tried to process what the person on the line had been saying before she had dropped her phone.

They had said it had been dark when he was driving home, and was just seven miles away when it had happened. Danny was driving home, the long way, to take more time to think. Ty knew that he knew that the long way barely had any street lamps, but he had still taken it. His light had just recently turned green, and he had gone. It was one of those streets without lights. There was a semi without its lights on, coming straight at him, driven by a drunk driver. He couldn't even see it, had no time to react to it, no time to speed up, or back up. The semi had collided violently into the drivers side door. No pain, no agony. Her husband and the love of her life had died instantly, but the semi driver lived.

Ty felt herself begin to cry again as she thought about it the day. She drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them there, wanting Danny to be there to wrap his arms around her and comfort her again, like he always did. But he couldn't. He was gone. For good. Her husband would never return home to hold her in his arms again, would never gently kiss her awake every morning like he had for fifteen years. She wouldn't ever see his deep blue eyes again, never hear him tell her that he loved her at the mark of each hour every day they were around each other again. She'd never see his smile, feel his warmth, love his laugh again.

Everything about him was gone, and the last time she had seen him, he was mad. Furious, even. He didnt even said good bye, or told her that he loved her one last time before he left. He didn't even give her a small hug, or a simple kiss cheek. He never did when he was mad, but she still missed it. She still wished that he had done those things, just that one time, the very last time he was able to leave her, the very last time she had seen him.

 _You didn't even say goodbye..._ She thought as she cried. She glanced to her nightstand, where a picture of the two of them sat. Danny had his arms wrapped around Ty, and was blowing a raspberry on her neck, making his wife giggle and squirm. She remembered the fun they had had that day, the day they had found out she was pregnant with the twins. He wouldn't stop tickling her, and she had laughed so much she had started to hiccup.

Ty smiled softly at the memory, and she picked up the picture frame, gazing at her deceased husbands face through tear blurred eyes. _Goodbye, Danny._ She thought. _I love you. Forever and always._


	2. Just a Matter of Time

Mom didn't tell us that Dad was dead until a month after he died. Every time we asked her where he was at after he suddenly disappeared, never coming home and waking us up for school in the morning after he had died, she told us that he was on a business trip. But every time she told us that, she'd always look so sad, like she was denying something. At first, the day after he had died, she wouldn't leave her room. Grandpa Adam had to come over and take care of us, but we saw the same thing in his eyes as we saw in Mom's. They were both like that for a month, Mom never leaving her and Dads room, and Grandpa Adam waking us up and sending us to school every day and making our meals for us on the weekends.

Grandpa Adam had to coax Mom into eating. We heard him go into our parents' room every day. He had once left the door open a little one day, and I had glanced in there to see what was going on, a week after he had died. Mom looked terrible. Her clothes didn't seem to fit her anymore, hanging off of her suddenly skeletal frame. She had heavy bags under her eyes, and they seemed dull in color, no longer bright like they always used to be. She had cleaned the room to perfection, and sat on top of the bed, drawn into herself like she was trying to block out the world.

I heard Grandpa Adam say something to Mom, something about Dad. I watched as she shook her head and started to cry, somehow managing to pull her skeletal limbs even closer to her body than they already were. Grandpa Adam sighed softly and sat on the bed next to her, hesitantly wrapping his arms around my Mom. Grandpa Adam was never much of one for physical contact, so the fact that he hugged Mom made me on edge, and did so even more when she turned into him to cry into his shirt and he allowed it. She'd only do that to Dad when she was crying. No one else. And I couldn't help but to get a bit more on edge as I backed away from the door, more questions regarding Dad's whereabouts running throw my head.

Ginny said she didn't like being left in the dark about what was going on with Dad. She told me she was going to threaten Mom with running away unless she told us what was happening around the house. I didn't try stopping her, trying to figure out what was happening, what they were keeping away from us. I looked out my bedroom window to the empty driveway outside, Grandpa Adam's car gone so he could go to work. I tried picturing our car there, but I couldn't remember it. I wished I had paid more attention to what it had looked like. I missed it. It wasn't the same without it here, at home. Nothing was the same anymore. Where was the car? Where was Dad? Was Dad with the car? Why wasn't anyone telling us where he really was?

I jumped when I heard a door slam, the one to Ginny's room. Mom's sobbing got louder after it had slammed. I winced at both the sounds, wishing there was something I could do for both Mom and Ginny. But there was nothing I could do for them, even if I did have an idea on how to help them. Mom didn't let anyone but Grandpa Adam into her room, and Ginny hated me. She always said that I was Mom and Dad's favorite, and that was why she claimed to hate me. I didn't see what her problem was. It was clear that Mom and Dad loved us both equally, for different things and reasons. Neither of them had played favorites, except after Dad stopped coming home, when Mom started to favor neither of us.

I hadn't realized that I was still standing at my window, looking out at the empty driveway that was no longer empty, Grandpa Adam's car now filling it, and darkness lighting the street lamps across the street until I heard footsteps in my room. A pair of skeletal arms wrapped around my upper chest, the person they belonged to only a bit taller than me. I jumped, but then relaxed when I felt the familiar comfort that only my Mother's arms could bring me. I looked over my shoulder to see her staring out my window and at the driveway, too. Her hair was wet and beginning to curl, as though she had just taken a shower, and she smelt like apricots. I loved that smell. It always helped comfort me when I was upset or frustrated, and Mom knew that.

Her eyes were still dull, still lifeless, but there was a small light in them, like she was dying and she had come to accept that fact. I suddenly got scared by the look on her face, thinking that she was going to do something that could get her killed, or that the issues she had spoken about her family having were happening to her and that was what was going to cause her to die soon.

Mom seemed to sense that, because she looked down at me and gave me a small smile. I could tell it was forced, but I missed her smile. I hadn't seen it in a month, and I had begun to wonder if I would never see it again. But when I saw her smile, I couldn't help but to smile widely, even though hers was forced. But it fell as soon as I felt something besides her arms on my chest.

I glanced down to see a photo in Mom's hands, one I didn't recognize. But I recognized the two people in it. One was Dad, and the other Mom. I felt Mom look down at the photo, and I watched as something wet splatted onto the glass covering the photo. I felt my stomach churn as I looked back up at Mom, and I saw her biting her lip, resisting more tears, and I began piecing together what had happened.

"Dad's... Dad's dead, isn't he? He's not coming back, ever, isn't he?" I asked Mom quietly.

I regretted doing so, though. I shouldn't have asked, because I only caused her to start crying more. But now I was crying, too. Mom had betrayed me. She had betrayed Ginny, too. She had kept Dads death a secret from both of us for a month, even though we had asked her everyday through her bedroom door where Dad was. She had always said on a business trip, but that had always been a lie, a lie she had insisted on telling for a month straight.

I jerked myself away from my Mom. She called my name as I ran out of my room, sounding pained and broken as she called for me to come back. But I wouldn't listen, no matter how much she called out " _Jacky_ ", my name. I didn't listen to her as I ran to Ginny's room, crying. I felt betrayed, hurt, and confused on what was going on. But above all I was in denial. Dad wasn't dead. He _couldn't_ be dead. It wasn't possible. He always came back home. He was going to come back home again. It was just a matter of time. He was coming back. I _had_ to believe that. I couldn't let him leave. He was coming back. He was...

Ginny intercepted me at her door, blocking me from entering her room. I tried to get past her, to escape Mom, who had betrayed us, but she wouldn't let me in.

"What do you want, Jack?" Ginny growled.

It took a while for me to form words. I still didn't want to acknowledge the truth, but I had to. Ginny was already dressed and packed to run away tonight. She couldn't go. It would only hurt Mom more. Even though she had lied to us for a month straight, I didn't want her to hurt more. Ginny wouldn't leave if I told her the truth about Dad, the truth Mom never told us directly but more with subtle hints.

"D-Dad," I choked out. "H-h-he's never coming b-back, Ginny."

Her hard expression faltered at that. "He… he's not? Where did he go? Did him and Mom… Did they… How bad was the fight? Was it really that bad to break them apart for good? When did they divorce? Is he going to visit us again?"

She sounded just as hurt as I felt, but not for the same reasons.

Shaking my head, I wiped at my eyes. "N-no. H-he _can't_ see us again. Ginny… H-he… He's gone."

I saw her bite her lip, denial settling in her just like it had me. "No… No he's not. He's not gone. He's going to call us. Just wait. He's going to call us, and then we're going to tell him to come home. He's _coming home_ , Jack. He wouldn't just leave us like that. He _loves_ us. He wouldn't just leave us or Mom without telling us why. He's coming ba-"

"Goddamn it, Ginny! He's not coming back!"

She took a step back when I practically screamed the words at her, shocked just as much as I was. I didn't mean to swear. I never swore in the house. Dad never liked it. I never yelled, either. Mom didn't like that. I brought a shaky hand up to my mouth and covered it.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I-I didn't…"

"… He's… He's dead… isn't he? Dad… He's…" I saw her shake her head, a clear sign that she was still denying the truth of what was going on.

Someone sniffed behind me, and I turned around. I saw Mom standing there, wiping at her eyes, the picture gone from her hands. Grandpa Adam was there, too, looking sullenly at us. He had a hand on one of Moms shoulders, and he gave it a light squeeze to prompt her to do something. But whatever it was, she wouldn't do it.

Ginny looked at Mom, her multicolored eyes wide open. "I-it's not true, is it? Dad's not dead. He _can't_ be dead. Please tell me it isn't true. Mom, say it isn't true."

A silent sob from Mom was all Ginny needed to know the truth. She quickly shook her head, and I could tell she was growing furious at Mom for not telling us. She turned a hateful glare at Grandpa Adam. "Why didn't you tell us? You _obviously_ knew about this. Why didn't you fucking _tell_ us?"

Mom didn't bother correcting Ginny's language as Grandpa Adam spoke, hanging his head. "Ty had requested I not. She wanted to tell you two herself. She didn't know it had been so long… Neither of us had known."

"But you _lied_ to us." Ginny croaked out, and I saw that she had begun to cry. "You told us he was on a business trip, but no business trip lasts for a _month_!"

"Ginny, I'm _sorry_!" Mom cried. "You don't know what it's like, knowing that _you're_ the reason that Danny is dead. It's because of _me_ he's gone. _I_ made him leave the house that night! It's _my_ fault the truck hit him. _Everything_ is my fault, and you're wondering why I didn't tell you that he was _dead_? Well, I'll tell you why. _I_ killed him." She let out a high-pitched whimper and lifted her hands, grabbing her hair and pulling a little, trying to resist more tears as she bit down hard on her lip. I watched as she bit hard enough to trickle blood down her chin, but she didn't care. "It should have been me. _I_ should have been the one to die. Not Daniel. He deserved longer. _I_ should have been the one in the car when it happened. Nobody needs me."

Hearing Mom say that broke me. Why would nobody need her? With Dad gone, all we had left was Mom and Grandpa Adam.

"Ty, don't say that." Grandpa Adam growled lowly in her ear. "The kids don't need to hear that. Take your pill." He presented her with a green capsule pill.

Mom took it, and Grandpa Adam lowered his hand, only to bring it back up quickly to try and stop Mom as she opened the capsule pill and dumped its contents onto the carpet.

"Ty, what are you doing?!" Grandpa Adam exclaimed as she finished dumping the pill out. She dropped the capsule on the ground on top of where she had dumped it.

"I don't need to be better, Adam." Mom said lowly, and I could tell she was still trying not to cry. "This is who I am. This… I don't need to be healthy."

I blinked and suddenly grew fearful for my mother's life. I remember Dad telling us about her depression from years back. She had attempted to take her life, and while she had done so, refusing to take the very green pill that she had dumped out, she had told him that she didn't want to be healthy, that she had nothing to live for and that he should just let her die. He told us that it had taken a month to get her to take the pill, and that he was the only one she would listen to. A couple other campers had tried, but no one but Dad had succeeded in getting her to take the pill for her depression. If Mom had really fallen back into it, and with Dad gone, Mom might leave us for good, like Dad. We'd be left with Grandpa Adam, because Mom would be gone, too. She'd be… She'd be dead. Like Dad.

"Mom?"

I turned around when Ginny spoke up behind me. Her eyes were wide open, and she was wiping away tears that were falling from her eyes. I couldn't bring up any of my own. I was in too great of shock to cry.

"You're not going to die, too, are you?" Ginny asked. She sounded meek, pleading, something she never was before Dad's death. "Y-you're not going to leave us, too, are you? I-I'm sorry for saying I hate you. I didn't mean it. I-I need you, Mom. You _can't_ leave us. _Please_ , Mom. Don't leave us, too."

Every time she said "leave us", I know she wanted to say "die". But it seemed too painful for her to say so.

Mom seemed to know that, too, because she shook her head, wiping at her eyes like Ginny was. "No, honey. Of course I'm not. Mommy's just… Mommy just needs some alone time, okay?"

Ginny shook her head, sobbing now. Mom sighed and held her arms open.

"Come here, baby. Come here." She murmured. Ginny rushed forward, shoving me out of her doorway, and flew into Mom's arms. She hugged our frail Mother tightly, sobbing into her clean navy blue shirt, dirtying it with salt tears.

I stood idly by, watching, starting to cry myself after overcoming my shock. Mom looked at me and held out her other arm, keeping one around Ginny to hold her close. I started to cry harder as I made my way over to her, welcoming her comfort as she wrapped her arm around me and pulled me close. Both Ginny and I cried in her embrace as Mom held us both close.

"It's okay, my babies," she murmured as Grandpa Adam watched us. She gave both of our foreheads a small kiss. "Everything is going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere."

"P-promise?" I choked out. Mom nodded.

"I promise, my love. I swear it on the River Styx, I'm not going to be leaving either of you two by my own doing."

Grandpa Adam seemed to wait tensely for the clap of thunder that would make her promise real, to solidify the fact that she had made it. Once we all heard the sound, Grandpa Adam let out a heavy sigh of relief after it had sounded. He came over to the three of us and wrapped his arms around all of us. His hug felt familiar, somehow, even though Grandpa Adam had never hugged us before. It felt like Dad's hug, except higher up, since Grandpa Adam was taller than Dad. And I liked it. It made me feel like Dad was there with us, too, hugging us and telling us everything would be alright, like he always did when any of us cried.

Mom leaned into Grandpa Adam once he hugged us, squishing Ginny and I between them. But we didn't care. We liked it. We welcomed their touch, even if they were half-crushing us. Mom started to cry into Grandpa Adam, and he rubbed her back softly, his hesitance obvious, but he still did it. It seemed to help him just as much as it helped Mom, and it helped me, too. I saw Dad in what Grandpa Adam did, and Mom seemed to see Dad in it, too, and eventually she was able to stop crying before Ginny and I managed to stop our tears from falling. We still cried as she gave us a tight squeeze and our foreheads a small kiss. She kept giving our foreheads kisses as we tried to calm ourselves down. Grandpa Adam removed his arms from around the three of us as his phone started ringing in his pocket, and he stepped away, going downstairs to answer whoever was calling him.

"W-we're going to see Dad again, right?" Ginny asked after a while, managing to stop crying before I could. She was always the strong one out of the two of us. She could take all the insults and beating in the world and still stand after they were delivered to her, though it seemed Dad's death was the only beating she couldn't continue standing for after it was delivered. She was going to be strong through it, though. I could see it. And she was strong through it. She was already handling it better than I was. I was still clinging to Mom and crying into her as Ginny talked, building up her supports to stand strong once more, and not only for herself anymore. For all three of us. She was going to be our shoulder to cry on whenever we felt weak. She was going to do that for us, like Dad had done. She was going to be Dad for us, or at least this part of him.

Mom had a sad smile on her face as she nodded. "Of course we are, sweetie. One day, we're going to see him again. But that day isn't today. In the future, we will. But for now, he'd want both of you to keep your heads held high," she brought a hand beneath my chin and lifted it so I was looking up at her. She gave my chin a small squeeze before letting her hand fall away and move towards Ginny. My twin let Mom touch her shoulder and give it a light squeeze. "And stay strong for him. He wants that from all three of us and Adam, okay? We're all going to stay as strong as we can for him, and not let anybody make us lower our heads to stare at the ground. Okay?"

Both Ginny and I nodded, small smile's on our faces when Mom spoke with the strong tone she used to always speak with before Dad had died. We had missed her strong tone. It helped us know there was order in the house, and with this new chaos with Dad being gone, we needed all the order we could get as we adjusted before we could keep our heads up like she wanted us to on our own.

Mom smiled softly at us, and she gave the tops of our heads small kisses once more. "Good. Now, we can grieve over him, but we can't let it get us down too far." Again, we nodded. Mom smiled a little more. "Good. Now why don't we go see what Grandpa Adam is up to downstairs, yeah?" Mom didn't wait for our responses before wrapping an arm around both of our shoulders and leading us downstairs to Grandpa Adam.

•·°·•·°·•·°·•

Ginny and I were in our late thirties when Mom passed away. She didn't die on her own terms, though, just like she had promised us that day the truth about Dad's death had finally come out. She died from a tumor that had grown on her heart. I found it kind of ironic a few years later, after she had died. She had always kept everyone close to her heart before she had died, and she had been talking about being unable to wait to see Dad again as she lay in her hospital bed for the few weeks she had left before she had died, telling Ginny and I on the days we visited that she couldn't wait to hear his voice again, feel his touch, and see his face again. She had always held Dad closer to her heart than she had held Ginny and I. Barely, she said, but she still held him closer. It made sense, though. She had been with him for four years before we were brought into the world, four years that they had gone through hell to be together and to stay together during, fighting against and through everything that had tried to keep them or force them apart.

I was happy for her, when she died. I mean, yeah, I was grief-stricken when I lost my mother. Ginny was, too. But she had been in such pain without Dad as we grew up, and we saw that, no matter how hard she had tried to hide it from us. She always said I looked like him as I got older, and I sort of missed that. But I didn't miss it as her condition had gotten worse. She had kept calling me "Danny", Dad's name. And it always seemed to hurt her when I told her that I wasn't Dad. She seemed relieved when Thanatos finally came for her while I was sitting next to her bed, holding her hand and telling her everything would be okay. She said that she had seen Dad with the god of death as he gave her just a few more moments with me. She seemed happy, more full of life than she had since Dad had passed on to the afterlife.

I'm happy for her, and for Dad. They were finally together again, something Mom had been looking forward to ever since she swore to us she wouldn't kill herself. Mom was finally happy in Esylium with Dad, and I can't wait till I see him again, too. But for now, I'm going to stay strong for both of them, and keep my head held high, and let nothing make me look at the ground.


End file.
